Whats mine...

 Writing is what I should've been doing every day for the last year and a half. 

Writing is my escape...

my joy..

my pleasure.

But.

It has been tainted.

Turned around and become a fuel for my anxiety.  What if?  What if my words are misunderstood....what if people are offended by my thoughts, what if they think Im saying something I am not.....Again.

What if....

There have been depths of pain the past few months that I have never known. And MY GOD....thats saying something.

and speaking of God.....

I dont feel much like talking to Him lately.  I try to. BUT tears fill the spaces where the words should be. Nothing to say, but a billion WHY'S....

So tonight....I write for me. 

I write....and I trust that these words are enough..LOUD enough for God to hear....and raw enough for them to count...as the prayer I cannot muster.

So many stories of heartache and pain have been woven into the days, hours.... minutes....seconds of the passing months.  Stories....that most of which, are not mine to tell.

The vulnerability...

The pain...of those that I love....hurts me to my very core...but the details....they'll remain unspoken for now.

The story that is mine to tell...

one of the many..

Nights without sleep, for almost all of the last 12 months. 

Days with crippling anxiety...panic attacks, nervousness...fear.

After suffering for what I deemed long enough...I decided to take all of that energy and put it somewhere new.

I started to train. developed a plan to put my worries into motion....  It started slow...with Devan and a couple of friends.. I began with a walk for a couple of days...then a walk/jog....and finally a run each day.  My body felt useful...beyond being a home for nerves and pain....it was capable...of so much more. It was taking me places...it was mastering strides and breathing...enjoying recovery and growth.

I was running at least 2 miles a day...every day. I had never felt so good.

One evening while I was running along the riverside, I felt a sharp pain. Each step on my left foot sent shockwaves throughout my entire body...what was it? I wasn't sure. It came from nowhere...the onset unpredicted. I pushed through that run....and again for two more days....it must be a pulled muscle, I thought...."don't be a wuss...."  By the third day of that week I could barley walk a couple of feet, my knee was swollen and I knew that something was wrong....I headed to the walk in clinic where I was told I had pulled a ligament...a week later, I was no better....

I saw a different doctor..He thought it was most likely my meniscus...surgery would probably help.

 It took an entire month before an MRI revealed that I had broken my leg. My tibia... Not with a fall or a trip...but only a step. I had walked around....wrangled kids....done all the mother and wife things for a MONTH on a rather severely broken leg... after the MRI I was forced to rest for a month and a half....no weight baring...no walking...crutches. 

Im not good at resting...  It took another few weeks before it was revealed that my bones were deteriorating...who knows how long it will take before they figure out why...  Appointments with specialists are in the works... 

Im still stuck...finally off of crutches, but still in a full brace...unable to do much...  no hiking or swimming....no running. Physical Therapy...is the most I do.

Its been so hard.

With all of the heartache that has been filling our world.... and experiencing most of it from the couch...

The physical pain,

The emotional pain..

The spiritual pain...

Its all so heavy.

It has led me to a place of silence....

fear of sharing my thoughts, my feelings...my pain.

Silence in my prayers....

I cannot pray.

I have never questioned my faith...for my entire adult life I have known the power of Jesus...

I know it still.

I have never felt far from him.

and I still feel  Him near.

In fact... Jesus sits next to me.

I feel him here....His hand outstretched toward mine... his arms ready to catch me....

but my eyes do not meet His.

I do not look up.

We sit silently.....together.

He knows that I know He is here...I can feel Him and he knows it.

But I say nothing.

I can't.

This is what's mine....

This moment.

I have nothing to prove...Jesus knows it all.

So I sit here with my lips closed and my heart open.....Pouring out the pain through my fingertips as I type. The frustration of my physical limitations... the desperation of all that has happened before this moment... The realization that no amount of hospital stays could hold a candle to the difficulties of the last year...I type. 

quietly....

Thank God...for all that is... without a bit of my effort... 

I will write... if for no one but me....

Because this moment...is what's mine.